


Amidst Fallen Skies

by amelioratedays



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 - Fandom
Genre: Drama Verse, Fujigaya Taisuke - Freeform, Hirosuke, Kitayama Hiromitsu - Freeform, M/M, Misaki No. 1, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelioratedays/pseuds/amelioratedays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryosuke likes Kazuma, it's pretty simple and blatant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amidst Fallen Skies

**Author's Note:**

> A 'Misaki No. 1' Oneshot

> _“The heart was made to be broken.”_
> 
> \- Oscar Wilde

 

The sun beat down through cotton woven clouds; soft light penetrating the world beyond. Cars made their way around the grid-like roads of the city, streetlights blinking green and red. Crosswalks a blatant black and white, puddles of rainbows where gasoline left its marks on the still damp asphalt. The fragrance of rain still hung in the air, cold front having just passed a few hours ago. There’s a breeze in the air and it simply hovers there as raindrops fell from tree leaves; miniature puddles forming on the grey sidewalk.  
  
There laid a comfortable vibe in the air, soft and lax. But Ryosuke was nothing near soft and lax, nor anywhere even close to comfortable. Not at this moment, not in this place. Not with a Kujou Kazuma vividly explaining the details of his last encounter with the vice-principal a mere thirty centimetres away from him. Flailing hands and vibrant smile as he proudly recalls his childish victory over the stoic woman. Ryosuke’s stomach suddenly does cartwheels and back flips that even Olympic levelled gymnasts would be dazzled by.  
  
He really isn’t listening, well at least not to what the other was saying. Instead he opts to listen to the slur of words and the tone of voice. There are pauses at the end of every two sentences, and Kazuma seems to dislike the idea of punctuation marks other than exclamation points. A protruding thought of it being adorable enters his head and Ryosuke thinks he needs a break, some fresh air and a can of coffee. Yeah, a can of coffee sounded good. He muttered a soft whisper of “Sorry, I’ll be right back” and makes his way to the classroom door. Hands in his pockets as his heart fumbles over puerile matters. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Yui’s inquiring glace but he casts it away. He really needs a break.  
  
It’s in the middle of watching post-rainfall clouds and dangling his feet over the school playground from the rooftop that he hears a loud, “Stop!”  It hurts his ears and makes him fall back an inch until he catches himself and thinks, he really doesn’t want to die. It’s still that same thought when he’s grabbed and pulled backwards to fall onto the rooftop floor in just about the most ungraceful way he’s ever known. Words are thrust in his face and the girl only looks at him, caramel eyes screaming,  _Don’t die, suicide is a horrible thing_. And Ryosuke laughs—laughs like the sky is falling and oceans are burning—because, really, he doesn’t want to die.  
  
It’s Wantanabe Tomomi from 3-A, and all she says is a simple, “I’ll listen to your story.”  Except he really doesn’t have a story to tell, at least not a story she thinks he would tell. So he opts to talk about what has possibly bothered him for the past few years of his life instead. He talks and she listens to tales of Kujou Kazuma. Kazuma who unexpectedly liked sweets, adored his pet dog, and absolutely abhorred test exams. Somewhere in between Tomomi finally believes that Ryosuke didn’t actually want to die, but she listens anyways. Conversations formed between flashbacks of Kazuma spilling hair dye on his favourite shirt, burning his pot trying to cook, and breaking his arm in a fight. Tomomi laughs and lets out a “You really like him, don’t you?” Ryosuke smiles, “You get it, don’t you?” And when Tomomi smiled back, the sky fell and ocean burned. “Hmm, I guess I do.” She laughs again when she inputs her number in his phone, saving her contact name as “Love Guru”. Ryosuke merely rolls his eyes and murmurs a “Like I need one.” He saves his contact name as “Rooftop Boy” and writes in the comments “who does not need a love guru”. And so Rooftop Boy bids farewell to Love Guru. He pretends not to hear her mocking sentence of “You’ll need one soon” as he walks down the stairs.  
  
He comes back to class before lunch break is over and makes it in time to his desk when it is over. Kazuma whispers a “Where did you go?” and he only mumbles back, “I needed some fresh air.” And he’s back to writing down notes while attempting to secretly peer at Kazuma’s face from the corner of his eyes. It’s a hard feat but he manages, until class is over and Kazuma slumps over him, words slurring more than usual. Quirks picked up from over the years and Ryosuke know he’s hungry, sleepy and didn’t understand anything from the lesson. Ryosuke let out a soft whisper, “But it was just lunch break a while ago.” “But I’m still hungry.” He said, whining more than evident in his voice. Stars imploded and Ryosuke’s heart wouldn’t stop beating, loud and clear to his ears. He pushed Kazuma off and willed the blush on his face to fade. “I’ll get you bread or something, wait here.” Kazuma beams and his heart beat harder.  
  
It’s pretty hopeless. Lost between like and love for someone he knows all too well. But it’s euphoria spiked depression and he only lets his heart run when Kazuma hugs him a bit too hard for the bread he threw in his hands. Yui and the others rolled their eyes; he did too, but only out of familiarity.  
  
He makes a petty excuse of needing to study for upcoming exams when Hosshi brings up the idea of going to karaoke, and resolves to go home for another break. He’s greeted by the surprisingly empty house and judging from the missing bike, he’s got a while before his mother comes home with groceries. Water boiling and plastic wrapping in hand, he makes instant noodles; contrary to delinquent-esque appearance, he doesn’t burn the pot.  
  
It counts as studying, he justifies as he opens the brand new notebook he bought on the way home. The spine bends open with a crack. It really does, he thinks as he spends the next few hours meticulously transferring notes and racking his brain for simpler vocabulary to explain concepts and formulas. Two notebooks and a makeshift study guide of paper stapled together he deems himself done. All of which covered and tabbed by possibly post-its of every colour possible. Lack of sleep beats him to pulp before he gives in to the soft crevices of his pillow and covers himself with the blanket that’s been crooning at him for the past hours.  
  
The notebooks stealthily make their way into Kazuma’s book bag full of everything but books. He sneaks away before the boy manages to find them and runs to the roof. Love guru laughs at the circles under his eyes and promises not to draw on his face as he sleeps on the rooftop. He tells her to get him a can of coffee. She promptly leaves and comes back with strawberry milk.  
  
Nagase stifles back a laugh as he enters the room, pastel pink drink in hand. He frowns and pretends not to see Kazuma smile at him knowingly. He stuffs him a note later,  _Thanks._ Ryosuke looks out the window, and mumbles,  _It’s fine_ as he tells his heart to calm. It doesn’t. He hopes Kazuma doesn’t hear it.  
  
And when Kazuma sits closer to him, face all too close for comfort, he almost chokes. Nebulas imploded and stars collided. Hosshi coughs and he needs another break. There’s a five minute break until the next class began and he stays at this desk, scrolling through the contacts list. He fumbles over the W section until he remembers that it wasn’t under W at all. Fuck pride, and he sends a “What should I do?” to Love Guru.  
  
Tomomi is outside their classroom by the end of the day, at least ten minutes before the last bell rang with a can of coffee in her hand. Hoshi tries to talk to her whilst putting on his most convincing front of being the least bit manly. She doesn’t fall for it, and Ryosuke simply laughs, grabby hands reaching for the can of coffee that she held on to. He sees her eyes waver and fall onto Kazuma, a knowing smile settling into her face. “You must be Kujou Kazuma.” She says, and Ryosuke feels himself turn into a shade deeper than crimson. Cloud woven conversations still lingering in the back of his head. Rooftop Boy eventually steers away Love Guru, coffee all inhaled like powdered drugs. Hosshi being tossed away by Yui.  
  
“Hearts are made of glass, you know?” Tomomi tells him while she orders more of strawberry infested sweets. She continues and doesn’t let him talk; “But they can repair themselves over time.” Ryosuke listens, mind walking up and down stairs until he reaches a place he wants. Tomomi runs on, “You should tell him.” “Should I?” He asked; two steps away from the door. Love Guru nods, “There’s everything and nothing to lose.” He reaches for the doorknob, mouth forming a small “I know” as he turns the brass handle to serendipity. And because Love Guru understands, she lets Rooftop Boy hold her hand.  
  
He turns and turns that night; bed forming an indent where he tossed and tumbled. The covers are uncomfortable and the blanket cuts into his skin. He can’t sleep; anxiety induced insomnia poking at his wounds. Blinded in the night, he feels for his phone, hands reaching for the cold plastic like brail quotes. The light burns his retinas, but he continues, fingers fumbling over numeric keypads. He memorized the number by heart.  
  
Kazuma picked up on the third ring, voice all clear and awake despite it being two o’clock in the morning. “Ryosuke?” And Kazuma’s voice was all serious, nothing bright and exuberant like he was on normal days. This was the voice he used when his mom laid in the hospital two years ago, one full of worry and sadness that sank in his heart. Ryosuke breathed in, and closed his eyes.  
  
“Kazuma.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“If right now, I told you I liked you, would the sky fall?”  
  
Kazuma doesn’t answer, lets the silence drown them both until he lets out a soft affirmative hum. Ryosuke closes his eyes tighter, voice dropping to a whisper. “Then let the sky fall, okay?” Kazuma whispers an “Okay” back. And there they stayed, breathing in synch until the plastic of the phone burned through their skin.  
  
If hearts were meant to be broken, Ryosuke figures he wouldn’t mind giving it a try. He figures, what more can a shattered heart do when the sky has already fallen.  
  
And Love Guru snuck a smile at Rooftop Boy; burning the oceans among the fallen sky. He doesn’t hold her hand this time and simply lets himself be wrapped in the embrace of Kujou Kazuma.


End file.
